


I don't know

by SophieGraceJ



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Angels, Angst, Antichrist, Desire, F/M, Fallen Angel, Forbidden Love, Temptation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 15:14:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16349111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophieGraceJ/pseuds/SophieGraceJ
Summary: Equals. So foreign to her. To be feared just as she was afraid. To see light in something so dark, and for someone else to see the darkness in her.So alone and misunderstood for so long, she could sense the old her held that similar isolation and confusion. She wasn’t normal, he wasn’t either. She was no ordinary witch and he was no ordinary warlock. He was no warlock … and maybe she was no witch.





	I don't know

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!   
> Oh my lord ... I ship these two beyond comprehension! I just started watching Apocolypse and I kinda feel bad to admit it, but I'm staying mostly to find out what will happen to the two of them even if they don't form some kind of connection or relationship whether that be romantic or just a deeper understanding!! They remind me so much of Hades and Persephone! Very much like Rey and Ben!

“Who are you?”

“I don’t know … who are you?” 

Who was she? What was she? So many broken pieces floating atop the surface of an ocean, a life that might have been hers but too deep for her to discover or remember. Scavenging through debris and pieces was all she had … a witch. A powerful witch. Robichaux's Academy. Life and death had begun to fade into one another. First losing her old self that she can barely believe, and then the apple … just like the forbidden fruit. She had died only to be brought back to life again. 

So much chaos … not like the peace, the serenity that was somewhere within her soul, but so far away and from a past she knew wouldn’t return. It was taken from her … 

It was lost. And then she saw him. Him.

Eyes like a cold fire, blue and penetrating. He was beautiful, seductive but she was afraid. When he had touched her, it had awakened whatever past remained within her. She was so afraid. 

He said he could save her. “I’m offering you a chance to live.” 

Yet if it weren’t for him, none of this would ever have happened. The world would be alive, not scorched and left in darkness like the Hell he must have come from. Still, there was something inside her, slumbering and dim, but there. It recognised him, something as evil as him. 

Like a reflection that had been distorted, a mirror … a coin. He was apart of her in some way. A dance, a waltz between the two of them. They were connected in a way neither of them could understand. Life and death, an ongoing cycle. They couldn’t be without one another almost.

Equals. So foreign to her. To be feared just as she was afraid. To see light in something so dark, and for someone else to see the darkness in her. 

So alone and misunderstood for so long, she could sense the old her held that similar isolation and confusion. She wasn’t normal, he wasn’t either. She was no ordinary witch and he was no ordinary warlock. He was no warlock … and maybe she was no witch. 

She needed him in order to know who she was. Perhaps he needed her too. There was a gentleness in his gaze whenever it brushed by her. She was his enemy and vice-versa, but it was impossible to feel any form of disdain for him and she sensed he felt the same. 

An empathy for one another even at the end of the world, when everything was chaos outside and burning and dying. Suffering and pain, but she didn’t want to inflict it on him and not once did he inflict it on her. 

Not once. 

The Antichrist. Satan’s son. Son of evil and darkness. And who was she … The light to rise and meet him? 

Offspring of the sons of God and daughters of men. Daughter of good and light. 

It was too poetic to take seriously, to put into actions and words that would bring hope and clarity. But it did. Not to herself but to Cordelia, Myrtle and Madison. Dinah and Coco. The rest of the world. 

“You’re the only one who has a chance.” 

What chance? A chance to live like he said, or to die trying like what she was supposed to do? 

Life … She was the seed of which death could be undone and reversed. To be restored to its origin of beauty and goodness. The energy of life was powerful, but so was death … so was decay. 

Mallory travelled to the sanctuary where he would be. Waiting for them, yet not expecting only one. Her. A no one … someone he didn’t know existed until now. Someone she didn’t know existed until now. She was sent to take from him just as he took from her. To take the life from death itself. 

Impossible. Just as it was impossible to bring death to life and its front door. 

“You.” He had said, pale eyes following her like a predator would its prey. “They sent you … Just you.” 

Mallory didn’t answer, what would she say? Yes, they sent me, just me. 

He smiled, the smooth pink of his lips stretching just a little, he was so beautiful … So innocent, so gentle… No, not her own thoughts. 

He smiled a little more, eyeing her up and down, flickering by her hair that was now down from its bun, her eyes that were now more visible without glass before them. Still adorned in the same grey dress, a servant. 

He lingered for a little while, watching her with the eyes of a snake … that’s what he was. A snake in the garden, her garden … Provocative and seductive, sneaky and waiting for the right moment and oh he did. 

“Mallory …” He whispered, walking just that bit closer to where she stood so much smaller and vulnerable, “This isn’t what you want, this is what they want. I can see …” He paused, head lowering and eyes remaining on hers, attached to her face.

“Why did you do it? All of this? Is this what you wanted?” She asked.

His chin up and pointed, golden hair still and relaxed hanging loosely by his shoulders, so beautiful like the fallen angel he was. “What is wanted and what is needed are very different things.”

“You got your answer then.” 

He smiled again, but there was no emotion to it – just hollowness and nothingness. How she felt standing so near him, so close but so far away. Crying was the only reaction she had to all these overwhelming sensations of remembering and wanting and needing. The overwhelming nature of feeling a numbness so powerful it persuaded you to believe there just nothingness. 

“What do you want, Mallory?” He asked so softly she could barely understand his voice that fluttered to her ears, his hand below her chin and holding it up, supporting her stare. 

“I don’t know …” 

“I don’t know either.”


End file.
